A struggle
by myumyuneko
Summary: "Haha look at 'em!" "Yeah! What a freak! " "Loser's more like it!" "What a joke!" "His parents don't even like him you know! They hate him, and we hate him. Get that?"


_Age 13_

_"Haha look at 'em!" "Yeah! What a freak! " "Loser's more like it!" "What a joke!" "His parents don't even like him you know! They hate him, and we hate him. Get that?" The leader of the group of boys snapped at him, grabbing him by his collar. "No one loves you, no one even likes you! Everybody hates you. No one would ever even care if you died right now! Get it? No one cares about you, no one ever will. Take the hint already why don't 'ya!?"_

Root said nothing. He just listened to them talk, their words cutting into his skin like the blade he took to his wrists. That pain was different though, that pain felt good. To feel the blood so dirty be clean from him when the water washed it away and carried it through the drains. But this-this pain now, their words-it was all different. A bad kind of pain. It lingered and stayed. Never left him.

Tears ran down his cheeks, slowly. The leader, giving a disgusted sneer, let go of his collar and let him fall back into the mud. The other's laughed cruelly when they saw him get up, face coated in wet mud. It pleased their evil thoughts to see a boy their age squirm under them. "Look guys, he's crying now! What a cry-baby! We aren't even mean are we?" Heads shook, smiles grew. A chorus of no's and n'uh uh's came back in replay. "Yeah, we aren't even mean...We're only telling you the truth!"

"No." Root finally said, getting up even when his body protested, body tingling in pain, limbs aching greatly. "No, your not telling the truth. Your speaking lies, hurting me because I'm a wee bit weaker. Your insecure about all of yourselves..." Shocked, the leader quickly regained his composure, snarling at Root. "Fucking Skylark wants to be bold huh? Come on guys! Let's show him the 'prize' that freaks who try being bold get!"

Root closed his eyes, and he waited. They laughed and poked at him, dragging him far away from the school. People stood and watched the boys, doing nothing to help him. Just standing there and watching. The group of boys dragged him off into nearby woods. Far away from other people. This was so that his screams couldn't be heard he knew. Yes, he knew all to well about what was to come. He should have kept his mouth closed, should have been silent. He didn't though, and hadn't. Now he had to face what was coming to him for not keeping his trap shut.

"Hold him, or tie him boys. We can't risk him escaping until we're finished with the trash, then we'll just dump the garbage were he belongs and his parents can take care of the rest!" The leader ordered with a grin. "You hear that freak?" He asked, grabbing his chin. "Your going to really get it this time. In fact...I think-I think you owe us all a little something. Yeah, yeah. We even promise not to beat the living shit out of you if you play along nicely. You will play nicely won't you freak?" Root only nodded his head slowly.

"Good. Now, the fun can begin..."

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Root gave a heavy sigh, brushing his teeth the best that he could to get the awful taste they left in his mouth out. He honestly didn't know why they had to make him swallow that nasty stuff, he didn't bite them after all! He very well could have. Knew that it wouldn't have gone well for him in the end though. Really it was no different from what his father made him do, the same thing actually. Though thankfully his hole was always saved and never touched by anyone.

That night his father visited him, in his long red robes with his smile on his face. Root could already tell what his father wanted before he spoke. "You know what to do right my baby boy? My sweet little angel. My precious. You know what to do for daddy?" Root nodded, hiding his look of disgust under his long curly locks of hair. His father frowned some, crawling on the bed and brushing his hair out of his face. "My sweet baby boy...I'm afraid your hair's getting to long again-we'll cut it tomorrow."

Root only nodded. "Okay dad." His father smiled at him again and pulled off his robes. "You know what to do, baby boy." Root eyes lacked and emotion, he set himself between his father's legs and got right to work.

After thoroughly scrubbing his mouth clean, Root stripped himself of his clothing and slid into the tub. Turning on the water and letting his weary eyes close, bruised, delicate body burning slightly from the hot water cascading down it slowly. He took in a shaky breath and leaned against the cold tiles. He opened his eyes halfway, spotting the razor blade that he loved so very much, and plucked it from where it had laid. He smiled lightly, running his index finger over it.

With one hand he held it, bringing up his wrist to admire his previous work with a nod of approval. Slashing new long lines to join the older one's. Never would he dig in to deep, just enough to see the blood trickle down his hands and fall to the floor, where it was swept away. He added one for every boy that he was made to suck, and his father to. He switched to his other wrist, adding a slash there for every insult and the two beatings that his mother gave to him.

Then, with that finished, he set the bloodied blade down and after washing his hair got out of the shower. He tended to one of the cuts he'd cut far to deep, wrapping it up with a frown. That one he'd cut for another reason completely. He'd already forgotten why. 

_Age 18_

_Finally, Root was at that magical, wonderful age where he could move away from his horribly abusive family, and away from all those awful kids that constantly ridiculed him and made his life a living nightmare. Yes, he was finally at that age where he could escape. Move away and never come back, maybe even forget all of this had ever happened to him._

...

But he never could really forget. He could try, push it from his thoughts. At least for now. He'd have a new life, a new house, and a new job. It was going to be great, it was going to be grand. He was going to be okay. Root was going to have a good life without any of his family. He didn't care if they live or if they died. In fact, he wished that they could die in the worst possible way, preferably rot in hell. Root was in charge of his life now, and it felt good.

He even had gotten rid of the one thing that he thought he would never have given up in a million years. He got rid of the Razor blade.

After all, he didn't need it anymore, did he?


End file.
